


A Different Kind of Happy

by There_lies_my_sanity



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, One Shot, Post-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 17:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14939027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/There_lies_my_sanity/pseuds/There_lies_my_sanity
Summary: The bedspread was wrinkled and pulled up on one side, tucked in against Yuuri like it was trying to make up for the missing body there. Victor would take its place soon, but for now...for now he just wanted to watch, for a moment, the deep, untroubled breathing of his husband and their dog.





	A Different Kind of Happy

**Author's Note:**

> My last couple of Yuri on Ice fics have been hard on poor Victor, so I figured I'd give him some fluff. Hope you enjoy!

Victor leaned against the bedroom doorway, the corners of his lips pulling up without his consent or concern.

The light from the lamp in the next room over spilled through the gap between the half-open door and the wall, painting the scene before him in warm yellow. Victor’s silhouette fell on the bed in the center of the room, curling its way around Yuuri and Makkachin like a gentle embrace. The muted curves of Yuuri’s body underneath the blankets was an invitation Victor almost couldn't refuse. Yuuri’s face was nearly as soft as Makkachin’s grey-tinged fur, the very fur he had his hands clutched in like at any minute their beloved dog would slip away. 

That was an unpleasant thought, one not suited to peaceful nights at home, so Victor pushed it aside to make way for the ever-present burning fondness nestled in his chest.

Yuuri was facing him, his head on Makkachin’s back like the dog was a pillow. Victor knew from experience that Makkachin made a rather good pillow indeed. The bedspread was wrinkled and pulled up on one side, tucked in against Yuuri like it was trying to make up for the missing body there. Victor would take its place soon, but for now...for now he just wanted to watch, for a moment, the deep, untroubled breathing of his husband and their dog.

Yuuri had gained some weight after retirement. Not enough that they couldn’t still perform their favorite routines for fun with all the grace their age would allow them, but enough to make his features soften, his toned muscles less obvious, his waist lined with pudge. Personally, Victor absolutely adored Yuuri’s slightly rounded figure. It satisfied some deep urge to pamper and spoil his love that he rarely indulged in. Well, that was a lie. Victor had too much money and too little impulse control and a need to keep Yuuri in a state of constant bliss because he deserved nothing less. Still, material things only went so far. The evidence of their comfortable life plain for all to see in the lines of his husband’s figure made Victor want to purr.

Yuuri got embarrassed when people brought it up. Victor liked to, occasionally, just to see Yuuri’s cheeks go pink. The more he was accustomed to Victor’s particular branch of dramatics, the harder it was to ignite that blush. Not that Victor minded, really--he liked Yuuri’s familiarity with his every movement, the knowing look and fond smile that replaced the awkward stammering and red-tinged adorableness of their earlier years. Still, sometimes he just _had_ to see the incredibly endearing and worryingly attractive warmth in Yuuri’s cheeks.

It surprised Victor, how much he loved being predictable, albeit only to Yuuri. In his youth, that had been one of the things that had driven him away from long-lasting relationships; the idea that he’d no longer be able to surprise, to inspire. It had been his life’s goal, after all. The reason he’d risin to the top. He prided himself in being erratic, unknowable. But with Yuuri…

Yuuri knew him better than anyone else ever had. Some of it was because they’d been together for a long, long time, shorter probably than it seemed but longer than Victor had ever thought he’d keep a friend, much less a significant other. Yuuri knew his tendency to forget the dishes but remember everyone’s birthdays, how he liked his coffee, his favorite shade of lipstick. Yuuri knew his favorite spins and his least favorite color, what it meant when he raised his eyebrow at someone, what it meant when he wrapped a possessive arm around Yuuri’s waist. But he also knew how Victor would move on the ice, where Victor would turn, which way Victor would bend, and no matter how many times someone watched Victor’s skating routines that was something that just couldn’t be learned. They skated like one person. They operated like one person. They danced--at a banquet, at a club, in the kitchen at four in the morning with the smell of coffee in the air and soft music playing from the radio and sleep-soft eyes drawn inevitably to each other-- like one person, one amazing, beautiful person. And Victor couldn't get enough of it.

Knowing someone as deeply as he knew Yuuri, being known as deeply as Yuuri knew him, it never got old. It didn’t need to be unpredictable. It didn’t need to be exciting, changing, exhilarating. It just…

It was nice.

_This_ was nice.

Makkachin curled up on their bed. Yuuri, warm and content, curled around Makkachin. Victor soon to be curled around Yuuri. Victor couldn’t imagine wanting anything else.

Well. He wanted plenty of things; a new convertible, a younger body, Yurio to make more friends. But this was all he needed.

“Are you coming to bed?” Yuuri asked, words slurred tiredly. He blinked his eyes open to look at Victor, still standing in the doorway. 

Victor could drown in those eyes of his. He wouldn’t even fight it. He’d just let the tides of Yuuri’s emotions pull him under, into that chocolate colored abyss he knew so well. He’d go willingly. Happily. “Hmm,” he hummed softly, an agreement.

Yuuri nuzzled into Makkachin’s fur, his eyes falling shut for a second before he forced them open again. “Then why are you still way over there?”

Victor chuckled softly. He may have stopped surprising Yuuri, but Yuuri never stopped surprising him with how much he could make that little flame of fondness in his chest grow. Each time it was bigger, warmer, and each time Victor thought it all-consuming. Surely it couldn’t glow any brighter. Surely it wasn’t possible to love anyone more. Yet each time he was proved wrong, usually within minutes of thinking it.

“I’m just admiring the two loves of my life,” Victor answered affectionately, and suddenly he was too far away. Suddenly he needed Yuuri next to him, happy and safe in his arms.

Victor crossed the room in gliding strides, tugging off his shirt and pants without breaking pace. Then he was immersed in comfortable warmth, sinking into a mattress that probably cost about as much as a small house. It wasn’t the thread count of the sheets that he relished, but the feeling of Yuuri beside him, the smell of fruity shampoo and home.

Yuuri sighed, wiggling a bit until his legs were comfortably tangled with Victor’s. Victor tucked his nose into the nape of Yuuri’s neck and let out a sigh of his own.

Yuuri sniffed. “You smell.”

Victor wanted to laugh, but decided it was too much effort. “Do you mind?” he asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Not particularly.”

It was more effort _not_ to laugh at that, so laugh Victor did.

It was quiet, for a while, the only sounds Makkachin’s half-snores and the breathing of people close to sleep.

“Are you happy?” Victor asked, barely more than a whisper, because he wanted to know. He wasn’t worried, really, but sometimes he just had to make sure.

Yuuri made a sound that meant he would have giggled if the matter was slightly less serious. “Of course,” he said instead. “I’m curled up with the two loves of my life.”

Victor smiled, pressed his lips to the back of Yuuri’s neck, and drifted off into sleep.


End file.
